


One Starry Night

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood Drinking, Bottom John, Case Fic, Coitus Interruptus, Insecure Sherlock, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega John, Omega John Watson, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Top Sherlock, Topping from the Bottom, Vampire Sherlock, Werewolf John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolf John Watson has an encounter with vampire Sherlock as he goes into heat. And it leads places neither of them expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the johnwantsit [1000 followers fanworks challenge](1000%20followers%20fanworks%20challenge) challenge. The prompt, from the [Prompts List of Doom](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/pub?key=0AottGF403wBKdGZndU9IZFhnWjNicE1UQm5nRkVBUXc&output=html) was simply "One Starry Night"

John limped his way across the open field. His heat was coming on, but there was nothing he could do. The wound in his shoulder burned in the moonlight; a silver bullet had nearly taken his life. He’d survived, but could no longer change. A werewolf who couldn’t change was useless to the pack, so he’d been cast out. Six months ago now. He slept when he could, always moving. He didn’t have a pack, or a home. He hardly knew what he was anymore.

A strange scent came across the air. Vampire. He stopped and growled, wishing he had a weapon or could bring out his claws. Instead, he drew himself up as much as he could. “Show yourself,” he snarled.

The vampire seemed to come from thin air, standing tall and pale in the moonlight. Alpha. The pale eyes seemed to take in everything about John at a glance. John was wearing tattered pants, but he might as well be naked. He took a step back, hair standing up on the back of his neck.

“Werewolf,” pronounced the stranger. “But you cannot change, due to the wound on your shoulder.” He started pacing around John. “Omega. Going into heat, but also you have been cast out of your pack.”

The vampire’s scent was intoxicating, heat growing, damp spreading down his thighs.  John fought the urge to get on all fours. “Clever,” he said, watching the pale eyes.

The vampire stopped, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” John watched him and cocked his head. “Amazing, really. What’s your name?”

“Sherlock,” said the vampire, stopping in front of him again.

“You came because of my heat?” asked John.

“I did smell you. But I admit I was also curious,” Sherlock took a step towards him. “And you are unafraid.”

“If you wished to kill me you would have done so already. I believe you have other...” John closed the distance between them. “...desires.”

Sherlock hooked an arm around his waist, leaning in to scent his throat. Fear and desire swelled inside of John, knowing how close the vampire’s teeth were. “Do you trust me?” the vampire breathed against his tender skin.

“I don’t have a choice,” John knew Sherlock could feel his heartbeat, could feel the pulse inches from his fangs. Perhaps the alpha scent was confusing his senses, but there was simply something about this man that attracted him.

“What’s your name?” asked Sherlock.

John blinked, his turn to be surprised. Most vampires only saw werewolves as a threat or vermin. “John Watson.”

“May I claim you, John Watson?” Sherlock’s deep voice went straight to his cock and made the wetness spread in his trousers.

Every instinct told John to run, that he was a fool to stay, that vampires could never be trusted. But his own pack had thrown him out and he simply had nothing to lose. “You may,” he assented.

Sherlock pulled him onto the damp grass. To his surprise, the vampire lay him on his back. He looked up at the bright stars for a moment until the pale face and dark hair blocked his view, coming down to give him a surprisingly tender kiss. Moaning, John shoved down his trousers and spread his legs, needing.

“I will take care of you,” promised Sherlock, running a pale hand down John’s tanned thigh.

“You bloody well better,” growled John, pulling him down and flipping them over.

There was surprise in Sherlock’s eyes as John straddled his hips. Omega or not, the compact werewolf wasn’t going to allow a vampire to control the entire situation.

“I thought you said you trusted me,” pouted Sherlock as he watched him.

“Perhaps. The question now is do you trust me?” He groaned as he guided the vampire inside. Sherlock gripped his thighs, head rocking back, exposing an elegant column of neck. John leaned down and scented the alpha, teeth dragging along the pale skin. There was no pulse, of course, but he was still absolutely desirable, pale skin glowing faintly in the moonlight.

“John,” Sherlock groaned and rocked up into him, desire written in every sinew. Long fingers gripped his hips, bruising to anyone lesser.

With a growl, John pried the hands off. Sherlock’s eyes went wide as he pinned the vampire to the ground. Some of his old power flowed through his veins as he drove himself down.  It had been a very long time since he’d mated with anyone, but this felt better than he’d remembered. Was it because this was a vampire, or because it was Sherlock?

Groaning, Sherlock writhed underneath him, unable to escape his grip or John’s legs tight against his hips. The knot starting to swell, stretching him wider. John kept up an unrelenting pace as the alpha’s cock reached deep inside.

Sherlock whimpered underneath him. The sound made his cock swell even more, but he didn’t touch himself. Precum pulsed from the tip as he dropped onto Sherlock’s cock again. The vampire tried to twist free of his grip, to take control, but John was having none of it. “Not this round,” he growled, gripping his wrists tighter.

John lifted again, but the knot was too thick to come out all the way. He pushed down one more time, coming at the same time as Sherlock, grip loosening as his head dropped to the vampire’s chest. Sherlock ran a hand through his blond hair, scenting him, not biting. “It will be dawn soon. Will you come with me?”

John turned his head and kissed him, panting. “I will.”

“Good. I do hope you will allow me to take you next time.”

John smiled. “Perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to themadkatter13, beautifullyheeled, beltainefaire and type_40_consulting_detective


	2. Chapter 2

They reached Sherlock's flat just as pre-dawn started lighting the horizon. It was strange, this city, but John could feel it in his veins. Thrumming low, humanity, a life force ignorant of so much around it. His pack had always avoided the cities, but for some strange reason, this felt like coming home.

John could smell a human as they passed the downstairs door, but Sherlock was evidently unconcerned. His pack had always avoided humans as much as possible, since they often meant nothing but trouble for his kind. The vampire led him up the stairs and into the flat, dimmed by heavy curtains.

Everything here smelled of the alpha and another wave of heat washed over him as he breathed it in. Sherlock moved behind him and wrapped elegant arms around his waist, scenting his neck.

“My heat is coming on again,” said John, voice growing thick.

“I can smell it,” said Sherlock, licking a cool stripe up his neck. “Taste your heat on you.”

John shivered. “Take me,” he whispered. His head was buzzing with the smell of alpha, knees nearly buckling with desire.

Sherlock guided him down the hall to the bedroom and quickly stripped John out of his ragged clothes, laying him on the bed before undressing himself. John looked at the vampire in the dim light, feeling the creature’s power as he crawled up the bed towards him. With a moan he spread his legs and reached down to touch himself, slipping past his cock to drag his fingers through the damp his omega body was producing.

Leaning down, Sherlock sucked a finger into his mouth, tasting John. The werewolf’s eyes dilated with lust as Sherlock’s gaze met his, heavy and needy. “Yes,” moaned John, thrusting up against the air, desperate for contact.

Sherlock chuckled darkly. He released the finger and moved up John’s body, kissing him. His sex slid along John’s, making them both groan with the pleasure coursing through their bodies.

John reached down and took hold of Sherlock’s cock, guiding him down and against himself. Sherlock needed no other prompting and slipped easily into the omega’s damp channel. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s waist and drew him deeper. He dragged his nails down Sherlock’s back with a growl that made his lover’s cock twitch inside of him.

"You're unusual," said Sherlock, scenting him again. Teeth scraped against John's neck, but not the fangs he feared. The vampire ‘s deep chuckle came again as his pulse jumped. "And you should fear me more than you do."

"I'm an outcast werewolf mating willingly with a vampire. You don't have to be a genius to see I'm out of the ordinary." John worried his ear in his teeth.

"Extraordinary," purred Sherlock, thrusting harder.

John shook his head and looked away, not believing. Sherlock cupped his cheek, turned his head and bit his lip, sharp enough that a bead of blood welled up. John gasped and stared at him. "You truly are." Never breaking eye contact, Sherlock lapped up the blood like a cat with a bowl of cream, self-satisfaction at the corners of his mouth. Leaning in, the vampire pressed his tongue past John’s lips, eyes finally shutting as he dominated his omega’s mouth, leaving behind the tang of copper.

His cock almost painfully hard, John pushed down against the swelling knot. He'd never _needed_ to be claimed before. The pack had taken care of his heats, but he'd never wanted a mate. Until now. The alpha’s power seemed to swell along with his cock, as if the taste of blood fueled him. Sherlock pulled out and flipped John over, shoving his knot inside and making the werewolf howl in mingled pain and pleasure.

Then, long fingers wrapped around his cock, Sherlock's breath in his ear. In a cacophony of sensations, John came hard, dimly aware of teeth breaking his skin, of hormones flooding his system, of something clenching around heart and soul: the new bond between them.

Slowly, the pleasant buzz started to retreat. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, holding him tightly and rolling them to the side, knot still keeping them tightly together. Cautious, John reached up to touch the fresh mark.

"I did not drink from you," said Sherlock, nuzzling his hair. "I will not without your permission."

"Good. I think we may have a fine arrangement." John settled against him, feeling, for the first time in a long time, that he was home.

 


	3. Chapter 3

They spent the next few days in bliss. Sherlock was in awe of this omega in his arms. He’d never felt a particular drive to mate, but coming across John Watson was like finding a candle in the darkness. He’d stolen sips of blood here and there in their lovemaking, but he was very careful to not actually bite. After all, he had made a promise.

He could tell the omega’s heat was coming to an end. John was asleep in his arms. Sherlock’s hand rested on his stomach, though he knew the odds of him actually impregnating his omega were slim to none. Werewolves and vampires simply weren’t compatible that way. Then again, he didn’t know of any other pairs, himself. He’d have to ask Mycroft.

John muttered in his sleep, settling a little deeper into his arms. Sweat glistened on his neck and Sherlock licked his lips. He could feel the strong heartbeat and felt the gnawing hunger in his belly. Ridiculous. Biology. Transport. The mark of his claim still stood fresh on the omega’s skin and he leaned down to run his tongue across it. John. His.

Whimpering, John’s shoulder flinched, the bad one. Sherlock wondered what the story was behind that wound. It angered him that the pack would cast him out, but, he supposed it made sense. A werewolf who couldn’t change was a burden, and in the end it had led John to him. Or himself to John. He’d smelled the omega while out gathering some plants.

Which reminded him he’d been in the middle of case. Well, it didn’t matter much now. He reached over and took his mobile off the nightstand and sent a short text before kissing John’s cheek. The werewolf yipped adorably in his sleep, both hands and feet pedaling a moment  before settling down again. A smile creased Sherlock’s face as he nosed his mate’s hair.

A little while later John started to stir. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock. “I need to eat,” he said, stretching.

“Of course.” Mrs. Hudson had picked them up some groceries. “Do  you need help?”

“No, thank you.” John kissed him again and rolled out of bed. He padded naked to the kitchen while Sherlock admired the view.

After a few minutes Sherlock got up to join him. John was just plating something. He looked up at Sherlock. “Do you eat?”

“Food like that? No. I require blood on occasion. My brother acquires it for me.”

John looked up at him and licked his lips. Sherlock saw a shiver go through him. “You never bite humans?”

Sherlock curled his lip. “A vampire’s bite is an intimate act. Do you really presume to believe I would do such a thing?”

A pretty blush stained John’s cheek and he cast his eyes down. “I suppose that is a presumption on my part.”

Sherlock sat next to him and picked up his fork, offering his omega a bite. “Your kind and mine do not often mix, especially not in pleasant company. I would not expect you to know the manners of my people..”

John ate, watching him. “So you drink blood supplied to you and nothing else.”

“I could drink from you,” said Sherlock, leaning in towards him. The hunger stirred in his stomach again, driven by the smell of his omega.

John straightened his spine and met his eyes. “No. I’m not your treat Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock growled slightly, then pulled back, swallowing. He dropped the fork on John’s plate and retreated back to the bedroom, shaking his head. He should call Mycroft, have a delivery made to curb his appetite. Two days of taking care of an omega in heat…his omega, his mate. He ran a hand through his hair and reached for his mobile.

“Sherlock.” John stood in the doorway.

“Yes?” Sherlock was halfway through typing a message. John crossed the room and took the mobile from his hands. Blinking, the vampire looked up at him. Something determined was in his eyes.

“What are the consequences of you drinking from me?” His hands were steady, Sherlock observed. His heat had nearly receded and his mind was clear.

“If it is a small drink, it would be a mark on your flesh and a bit of weakness. Of course if I drank long enough I could kill you. Or I could turn you.” He met the steely blue eyes.

“But you could stop before it reached that point.” It wasn’t a question. John put the mobile back on the table.

“Yes. I am sure of it.” Sherlock reached out and touched his arm.

“I give you permission, then,” said John, taking a seat on the bed.

The vampire stared at John. Heartbeats passed until the werewolf reached out to touch his leg. "Sherlock?"

He blinked a few times and took a breath.. “John, no one willingly offers themselves to a vampire. Certainly not a werewolf.” His mate was truly a remarkable specimen. He cupped John’s chin. “Are you certain?”

"Absolutely." John angled his head, accentuating the line of his neck. Sweat trickled down the tan column, pooling in the scar on his shoulder.

Sherlock leaned down to lick the scar as he sat down, wrapping his arms around John and drawing him against his chest. He leaned down to scent his omega. “It will only hurt a moment.”

“Stop talking and take me Sherlock.” John’s voice was firm.

Sherlock released his fangs and bit down. There was a low moan somewhere between pleasure and pain. His blood was the sweetest treat, so much better than the blood Mycroft had always fed him. And it was going straight to his cock as well. Judging by the wet, John was having the same reaction.

Sipping just a bit more, Sherlock rolled them over. He still had his teeth in John as he slid his cock into him. The werewolf writhed underneath him, moaning. Sherlock wanted to lose himself, but he remembered to withdraw his fangs, licking at the wound as he fucked him slowly, pinning his wrists to the bed.

John’s noises were decadent. He groaned and Sherlock could tell that he’d come against the bed. The scent with the taste and aroma of his blood drove him to fuck him harder, driving him into the mattress. He mouthed the werewolf’s shoulder, copper and sweat and _John_.

“Sherlock,” John’s voice sounded small and broken. Pitiful. Sherlock blinked and stopped, pulling out and gathering the smaller omega in his arms. Had he drunk too much? He cupped John’s face, heart in his throat. John smiled at him and closed his eyes. “I don’t feel good,” he muttered.

Kissing him, Sherlock lay John back on the bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He muttered and rolled onto his side. The bite was clear on his neck. Leaning down, Sherlock kissed it, worried. He’d never bitten anyone before and he thought he’d pulled off with plenty of time. Still….with trembling hands he picked up his mobile and sent a quick text.

Sherlock was wrapped in his robe when the familiar footsteps sounded on the stairs. He’d made some effort to dress John and the lack of response had cemented the rightness of the decision to get Mycroft. The umbrella entered the flat first. “Where is he?”

“Back here.” Sherlock led the way to his bedroom, trembling.

Mycroft perched on the edge of the bed. “You mated with a werewolf.” It wasn’t a question. Sherlock hovered as he examined the marks on John’s neck and shoulders.

“He’s outcast. I found him just outside the city.” Sherlock watched John breathe.

Mycroft checked his pulse. “You chose to drink from him instead of calling me.”

“His name is John. And it was his choice. I was about to text you.”

Mycroft put both hands on his umbrella as he looked up at Sherlock. “He will be fine.”

Relief flooded Sherlock’s system. “What happened?”

“Your bite produces a venom to numb your victim. He was already in a weakened state from the mating. That coupled with your inexperience was enough to render him unconscious. But he is a strong omega.” Mycroft stood and met his brothers eyes.

Sherlock swallowed once, twice. “Thank you,” he said, looking away.

Mycroft nodded. “Let him sleep. And do not drink from him for a while. But you will be able to do so in the future.” He turned and walked out without another word.

Swallowing, Sherlock knew that there would be fresh blood in the fridge soon. He heard the door close and let out another breath. He shrugged out of the robe and climbed back into bed, curling around John and holding him tight. John whimpered. Sherlock kissed his cheek. “I’ll take care of you,” whispered Sherlock.

John once again settled down, Sherlock kissed his ear, keeping watch over his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to themadkatter13 and beltainefaire.
> 
> And I think maybe there will be a chapter 4.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock was in the kitchen with an experiment when he heard John start to stir. Immediately, he grabbed a cup of tea and brought it back to his mate, sitting next to him as he opened his eyes. “Oi, Sherlock, I’ve got a headache. What happened?”

“What do you remember?” asked Sherlock, watching him sit up slowly and take the mug, sniffing, then sipping it.

“Not much, it’s a bit of a blur.” He touched his neck and felt the mating mark...but dropped his hand before it touched the bite. “We’ve been in bed a few days, haven’t we?”

“This is the third, technically, but I do believe your heat has fully passed.”

“Yeah.” John ran his hands through his hair and wrinkled his nose. “I need a shower.”

“Of course. I took the liberty of having some clothes delivered. The bathroom is there. I’ll heat you something to eat.” Sherlock watched him mumble a thank you before draining his tea and heading through the door.

What Sherlock was not prepared for was the anger on John’s face when he stalked into the kitchen twenty minutes later. “You _bit_ me.”

“Yes, well, you told me to do it,” said Sherlock, trying and failing to looking utterly calm while he finished stirring the food on the stove.

John twisted his arm, forcing Sherlock to face him. “I was in heat. And you drank from me.” His voice was nearly a growl and something feral flashed in the dangerous glimmer of his narrowed eyes.

“I’m sorry, John. I thought you would remember.” Sherlock trembled in his iron grip.

The werewolf searched his eye. Taking a deep breath, he released Sherlock and took a step back. John pointed a finger at him. “Two things, Sherlock Holmes. First of all, I am not your pet. I may be your mate, but I am my own man. I will earn my own clothes and food and whatever else I may need, on my own terms. Second of all, you will not drink from me. I’m sure you have your own ways of getting what you need, but for us, well, there are few things worse for my kind then to submit to _that_. Even _if_ I gave my permission…” John stopped and took another breath, bringing his voice down. “If I ever give you permission again, you had better make sure that I am fully and one hundred percent in my right mind.” He took another step back and dropped his finger. “Now, I am taking a walk. I need some fresh air.”

John turned and stalked out of the flat. Sherlock wanted to follow, but it was late in the afternoon and even overcast London was too bright. Instead he took the food off the stove and threw himself into his chair. Was it that the venom in his bite that had caused the amnesia? Or some combination of the lingering heat and the bite? He’d have to do more research.

Sherlock was prepared to go after John as soon as it was dark enough, but thankfully his mate returned before the sun was fully down. This John was much more subdued than the one that had stormed out. He took a seat by the fire and Sherlock brought him some tea, taking the other seat and waiting for him to speak.

“I did give you permission, didn’t I?” John said at last, worrying his lip as he looked down and into the middle distance. “I think…maybe I remember…”

“Yes,” said Sherlock. “I... I thought your heat was nearly past. And then you passed out on me when I finished drinking. Mycroft said it was the venom of my bite. I... had never bitten anyone before. We don’t bite except as an act of intimacy.”

John sipped his tea, clearly thinking. He gave a short nod, as if coming to a decision. Getting up, he moved to straddle Sherlock’s lap, kissing him gently. “I apologize for my outburst.”

Sherlock nuzzled his neck, breathing in his scent. Tension seeped from his shoulders. “I am only glad you didn’t wake and think I had kidnapped you. When you passed out I was afraid I had seriously injured you.”

“Who is Mycroft?” John asked, leaning in to his touch.

“My elder brother.” Sherlock raised his head to take a cautious kiss, relieved when John parted his lips, welcoming him in.

“I forgive you,” said John, pulling back and looking into the vampire’s eyes. “But I still mean the first part of what I said. I’ve always worked hard to take care of my pack. Even if my pack now is just you, I still want to earn my keep.”

Sherlock opened his mouth, but just then, his mobile went off. “Perhaps you can start earning it tonight. That will be Inspector Lestrade. You can help me.”

“Help you with what?” John’s natural curiosity was getting the better of him.

“I solve crimes,” said Sherlock, retrieving the mobile from the side table and reading the message. He pulled on his coat and scarf. Looking at John he pulled out a second scarf and put it around his neck. John smiled softly and followed him out.

As the car started, John clutched the door, giving a tiny distressed whimper. Sherlock had deduced days ago that John had never been in the city before. Of course he should have realized that also meant the werewolf had never been in a car. John bit his lip and looked at his alpha, reaching over to take his hand. Sherlock wrapped him in his arms and held him against his chest, baring his teeth at the cabbie when he looked in the mirror. His eyes went back to the road. The cabbie kept his silence and Sherlock paid as they disembarked.

Sherlock led John towards a block of flats. The police were already on the scene and Lestrade was waiting for them outside. “Who is this, Sherlock?”

“My companion, John Watson. John, this is Inspector Lestrade.”

“Greg,” he offered a hand. John looked at it, then shook it. From the way John looked before shaking Lestrade’s hand, it was obvious he’d had little contact with humans. Perhaps he’d been observing them on his walk this afternoon?

John glanced his way for reassurance. Sherlock gave a tiny nod and rested his hand on his mate’s back. “So you’ve got a triple murder?” he asked as they headed inside.

Lestrade rattled off what they knew about the situation as the three of them headed inside. The humans all watched Sherlock and John, but Anderson stared a little too long at the werewolf. John stepped toe to toe with him before Sherlock could intervene. “Got a problem?”

Anderson stared down at John, his eyes going wide as he took a step back, shaking his head. Sherlock smiled a little; no doubt he’d seen the wolf. Lestrade rolled his eyes. “This way, please.”

Sherlock rattled off deductions as he moved around the bodies, feeling John’s eyes on him. Quiet exclamations of praise fell from the werewolf’s lips in a  steady stream. Sherlock felt himself growing warm under his scarf.

“So,” said Sherlock in conclusion, brandishing his mobile. “Clearly because the circus is in town and the moon is a quarter full, they were killed by a man known to all four them that you can find posing as homeless on the quay.”

The room was deathly silently as everyone stared at him. “All right,” said Lestrade, gesturing at his team as he barked more orders. Sherlock gave him a few more details on how to spot the murderer, then turned and walked away from the scene.

“That was brilliant,” said John. “You do this all the time?”

“This is my Work, yes,” Sherlock confirmed as he hailed a cab.

“Well, what kind of help could I possibly be? You had it solved as soon as we walked in.” John had admiration in his eyes. Sherlock shifted his feet and looked away.

“But what if the case had occurred during the day? Granted, most murders do seem to occur at night. I’ve done a study, it’s on my blog. But if the case was during the day, well, I would need someone I trust to be my eyes and ears.” Sherlock climbed into the cab.

John was too distracted by this line of thought to be concerned by the car this time. “How could I possibly do that for you?”

Sherlock took out his mobile and waved it at John. “With your instincts and a bit of technology, I’d wager.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I give up and am removing the pwp tag. Obviously this fic wants to be longer than 4 chapters and would like a plot now. So, we'll see where this goes.
> 
> Much much thanks to themadkatter13 and beltainefaire


	5. Chapter 5

John woke slowly and sat up. His mate appeared to be resting, stretched out next to him. Did vampires need to sleep? Pale skin shone faintly in the dim light and the start of an erection tented his pyjama bottoms. Well,  _that_ John could definitely help with.

Leaning in, John kissed his Alpha's lips, rubbing him through his bottoms with his hand, feeling his erection growing. Sherlock moaned softly and John leaned in to inhale his scent before dropping his head to mouth his cock through his pyjamas.

"John?" Sherlock's voice was sleepy, elegant fingers landing in his hair. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" John smiled, reaching for the band to free him.

"But you aren't in heat?" Sherlock, waking up more now, looked at him with curious eyes.

John stopped and looked at him.  "You don't have to be in heat to mate." Had he never done this sort of thing before? He supposed not, judging by his reaction. "It's normal."

"It feels good," Sherlock said softly as John tugged down his pyjamas.

"It should." John looked at the half-hard cock and licked a hot stripe up the side.

Groaning, the vampire turned him and pulled his legs up so he could reach his arse. Graceful fingers stroked him open, encouraging his natural wetness. John moaned and went down on him.

Sherlock cried out, thrusting up and nearly choking him. John pulled off.  "Don't make me tie you to the bed," he growled.

"That's an option?" asked his mate, eyes wide as he wet his lips.

John chuckled. "We have plenty of time to try things. Just relax."

He went back to licking and sucking at Sherlock's cock, feeling it grow harder under his ministrations. He raised his head from time to time, giving Sherlock suggestions on preparing him. Finally he kissed the top of Sherlock's cock and got up, padding to the bag of groceries he'd left on the counter the day before and returning with a bottle of lube.

"Since I don't produce as much wet out of heat, this will help." He knelt on the bed and opened the bottle, slicking his fingers and pressing two inside, scissoring them slowly.

"John." Sherlock stared at him in wonder. Smiling, John moved forward to straddle his hips, leaning down to steal a kiss from his alpha before guiding himself down

In a way, it was like the first time, with Sherlock’s wonder and John guiding the way.. But now they were both more in control of themselves. The vampire moaned, rocking up to meet his thrusts, pale eyes gone dark with lust. His knot had started to swell, but it nowhere near as thick as it would be in heat. It still felt amazing and John leaned down to kiss away his mate’s small cries.

John moaned as he sat up and fucked himself on his alpha’s cock. HIs eyes fell shut as he took his own cock in hand. Sherlock’s longer fingers wrapped around his own, exquisite.

Suddenly, Sherlock cried out and shuddered, filling his lover. John smiled and opened his eyes, getting closer. Since his knot hadn’t swollen all the way, Sherlock lifted him off and lay him on the bed, swallowing his cock, clearly trying to imitate what John had done before.

John cried out, rocking up against his mouth. He tried to warn Sherlock, but then he was coming into that wet heat, all but thrashing on the bed. Sherlock swallowed him down until he was nearly oversensitive with it before finally raising his head, worry in his eyes.

Smiling, John folded forward until he could kiss him, tasting his come on his lips.Sherlock’s eyes closed as they simply kissed, both of them still short of breath, simply revelling in the delight that was one another. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and pulled him to his chest.

**

The morning respited was broken by Sherlock’s phone alert. John groaned and kissed him. “I’ll get myself some breakfast,” he said as the vampire reached for it. By the time Sherlock came out of the bedroom in a robe, the tea was ready and he was about to sit down. “There’s been a murder. I need you to go for me.”

“I’ll eat fast.” John nudged Sherlock’s mug of tea at him and all but inhaled his meal while Sherlock explained how to use the mobile he’d bought him so John could share the crime scene with him. “Lestrade knows you’re coming. He doesn’t know what I am, but he knows I will not come to a scene in the daytime. I trust you can handle the rest of the Yarders.”

“Of course I can.” John drained the last of his tea and kissed Sherlock’s cheek.

He arrived at the scene with only a bit of panic about getting lost. It was still strange to him, so many humans all packed together. Lestrade was waiting for him and gave a kindly smile as he raised the police tape. “This one is different,” he said.

“Different how?” Not that John was any sort of expert on murder. He followed Lestrade and pulled up what he needed on the mobile, calling Sherlock.

“It almost looks like a dog attack,” said Lestrade, “but there’s only one wound.”

John frowned and that was the first thing Sherlock saw when he answered the video call. “What is it?”

“I was telling John it appears to be a dog attack, but there is only one wound,” said Lestrade, leaning over to get on the camera.

“Let me see,” said Sherlock.

They’d reached the body by now. Sure enough, there were no obvious defensive wounds. Only the man’s throat had been bitten. John leaned over to show Sherlock the damage, only to get a whiff of something... _familiar_. He frowned even deeper. He hadn’t heard of any werewolves operating in London. The pack had always told him the cities were too dangerous for their kind.

Sherlock was talking and Lestrade was making notes. John had missed nearly everything he’d said. But this was important. He stood and walked away from the body, over Sherlock’s protests. “Just a moment,” he told Lestrade over his shoulder.

“How do I take this bloody thing off speaker?” he asked. He accidentally hung up, cursed, and called right back. “Sherlock, you know what this.”

“A werewolf attack, yes. There are a few in London though they tend to keep to themselves. This is highly unusual.”

John ran a hand through his hair, unknowingly making it stand on end. “Sherlock this isn’t just that. It smelled familiar. Like my pack.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end. “Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that!” growled John. He looked up and lowered his voice again. “Yes. My senses may not be as good as they were, but I would recognize it anywhere.”

“Go back to the scene. Let me take a look at the environment. Tell Lestrade I will come examine the body tonight.”

John nodded, then remembered Sherlock couldn’t see him. He turned the camera back on and carried it to the scene. Sherlock made a few more banal deductions, instructing John on where to carry the camera before having him turn the phone over to Lestrade.

John looked at the body another minute, then walked away. Why would anyone in his pack be here? They were country folk, and even the youngest pups were warned away from the cities. Too many humans. Not that some didn’t leave the pack when they got a little older. They had contact with other packs in the area and had intermarried, but for the most part each pack was it’s own tight clan, mistrusting of outsiders and humans, and vampires especially. The fact that most vampires lived in the cities with plenty of easy prey didn’t help exactly increase fondness between their species either.

Then again, a lifetime of warnings hadn’t stopped John from mating with a vampire at the first opportunity. Or from finding he liked the city after all. Well, as far as his alpha was concerned, he was always told that when one found the right mate, they’d know. The city was a whole ‘nother mystery. Lestrade was walking towards him with the mobile. “Suppose I’ll see you at the morgue tonight then.”

“Yeah,” said John, pushing his thoughts aside. “I better get back to Sherlock.”

“‘Course. Take care of him.” Lestrade gave him another smile and headed back for the crime scene, leaving John to catch another cab. Some days he really missed running on all fours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indebted again to themadkatter13 and my writers circle.


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as night fell, they headed for the morgue. As their footsteps echoed through the halls, John reflected that he was more comfortable here in the emptying building then in the hustle and bustle of the city streets. He was still getting used to the crush of humans that was London, the strange smells. Some part of him still felt the loss of his pack, the warnings of elders about humans and what they would do if they found a lone werewolf.  But he was safe with Sherlock and he could handle himself. Most humans were ignorant, and that was fine by him.

A mousy woman was waiting for them with a cup of coffee. Sherlock plucked it from her hand, sipping it as he made a beeline for the body. She glanced nervously at John and excused herself.  John joined Sherlock as he leaned over the body.

“Is the smell of your packmate still there?”

Leaning in, John sniffed at the human. The smell was there, but faint. “Yes, but I can’t tell who it is.”

Sherlock  nodded. “It’s fine. Do you have any thoughts as to why one of your kind would attack a human?”

John’s growled. “How should I know? We were always warned away from humans.”

Raising his head, Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him. “But this was clearly one in wolf form.”

John couldn’t deny the truth in front of him. A werewolf had attacked this man. “What can you see?” he asked instead, looking at the body.

“There are no defensive wounds. So the attack came suddenly. Perhaps he simply leapt out at the man.”

“If so, then his intent was clearly to kill without warning. Especially if he’d taken on his true form.”

Sherlock caught his eyes over the corpse. John shifted his feet and looked away from the vampire’s searching gaze. Maybe it had been his choice of words. He opened his mouth, but just then the woman came back with Lestrade in tow and he clapped it shut.

The silver haired inspector held a file in his hands. “Richard Devon. Petty criminal.” He offered the folder to Sherlock.

Sherlock handed the coffee to John, who handed it back to Molly. The vampire quickly scanned it and handed it back to the inspector, stalking out without a word. John hurried to make some attempt at apologies for the hasty departure as he took off after him. Lestrade simply gave a rueful smile and waved him on.

John caught up as Sherlock pushed open the doors to the street. A cool drizzle was starting to fall. “Where are we going?” asked John.

“I need to see the crime scene,” said Sherlock, hailing a cab.

“Then what was the point of sending me this morning?” asked John, stuffing his hands in his pockets and attempting to pull his head deeper into his jacket.

“Simply need to verify some things,” he said, looking at John. He reached over and pulled up his mate’s collar. “And I like this form on you.” He opened the door to the cab and gestured John inside first.

**

The vampire led him from the crime scene to a dilapidated warehouse, and finally to a club that thumped loudly into the night, even standing outside. John growled as they moved closer and stopped. Sherlock took four more steps before realizing he was no longer by his side. He turned and looked at him.

“It’s a vampire club,” said John. The cold rainwater dripped down his hair and behind his collar, but he’d rather catch his death of cold than step inside that place.

“You’re with me,” said Sherlock, as if that solved the problem.

John shook his head. “They’ll smell me as well as I can smell them from here.”

“And they will also know that we are mated and that to touch you is the same as harming me.” Sherlock clearly didn’t understand his reticence.

“No, Sherlock.” John moved to a stand against the wall where he could keep a wary eye on the bouncer standing outside the club.

With a sigh, Sherlock shifted him so he was a bit more sheltered from the elements and kissed his forehead. “I will return soon.”

By the end of the first hour, John was considering going in after him. What if Sherlock was in danger? But as he took a step towards the door the bouncer turned his head towards him and he slunk back along the wall. He was no coward, human form or not, but there was no way he could take on an entire club full of vampires. Besides, he would know if anything happened to his mate.

His understanding was that vampires were generally more solitary creatures. Certainly Sherlock fit that idea. But they also had their own organizations, and things like this club. Was it simply a place for congregation or did they lure human victims in? He really needed to learn more about the vampires, and the thought made him painfully aware that he was a werewolf alone in a city full of vampires and humans. And apparently one murderous former packmate.

By the time Sherlock returned, John was shivering and he was fairly certain the sky was growing lighter. The alpha took one look at his omega and quickly ushered him into a cab.

John felt relieved as they climbed the stairs to the flat. This was definitely home now. He shook himself and hung up his soaked coat, grumbling as he headed down the hall for the bathroom. When he stepped out of the warm water he found Sherlock’s warmest robe and a steaming cup of tea waiting for him. Smiling a bit, he shrugged on the robe and sipped the tea. He stepped back into the front room, mindful of tripping on the hem.

Sherlock was curled up in his chair with his laptop. “You should sleep,” he said without looking up.

“Did you find anything at the club?” asked John; he’d been too tired and wet to ask in the cab.

“A few things.”  Sherlock was clearly more focused on his work than anything else, so John left him to it. He drained his mug as he reached the bed and set it on the end table. Hanging up the robe, he burrowed under the warm blankets and was soon sound asleep.

In his dreams, he was a wolf again, running with the pack. He breathed in the familiar scents of his home, felt the pull of the three-quarter moon above them. There were humans nearby, hunters. They could smell the silver weapons, sharp and bitter against the night air.

They were ambushed. John fought tooth and claw, even as a bullet tore through his shoulder. One of the hunters made to grab him and he growled, throwing them off and hearing a grunt as they landed. John’s eyes shot open and he found himself looking down at Sherlock. The vampire was pinned to the floor, eyes wide. Shaking, John found his feet and backed up, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

Sherlock stayed where he was for a long moment, but finally sat up, reaching down to wrap a hand around John’s bare ankle, as if trying to ground the both of them. “You were having a nightmare.”

John scrubbed his face in his hands. “Probably good I can’t change then,” he said quietly. He could have really hurt the vampire if he had. He was aware of Sherlock watching him, his predator’s eyes holding concern and worry. “It’s fine, Sherlock.” John reached out to run his fingers through his mate’s hair. “We’re both fine. Did you find anything?”

“Yes.” Sherlock got up and moved to sit next to him, quietly wrapping his arms around his omega’s waist and tugging him against his chest. “The victim was a known associate of someone I know only by reputation. But I believe him to be be a major player in the criminal underworld.”

John looked up at him, hearing the respect in his voice. “Does he have a name?”

“He does. James Moriarty.”

The name meant nothing to John, but Sherlock had a look in his eyes as if he’d found a particularly challenging puzzle he couldn’t wait to crack. “Dangerous, I assume?”

A smile tweaked across Sherlock’s lips. “Indeed. The most dangerous, if rumors are true. The victim in question was not that important in the scheme of things, but the murder no doubt brought our werewolf to Moriarty's attention. He is himself human, but he knows the truth of things.”

John was surprised. “And yet he lives?” His pack’s rule had always been that humans knowing the truth of their race was far too dangerous to permit.

Sherlock inclined his head, watching him. “This is the city. Things happen from time to time. Most humans simply dismiss their suspicions. The more clever ones hide them. And then there are those like Moriarty.”

John nodded. Certainly it was impractical and dangerous to remove human threats here. “So if we find Moriarity, we find our werewolf then?”

“Yes. But it won’t be an easy task.” Unexpectedly, Sherlock leaned down to kiss him before scenting his neck. “Are you rested enough?”

“Even if I’m not, I’m awake now. What do you need?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very heavily indebted to themadkatter13 for helping me beat this chapter into submission.


	7. Chapter 7

 Sherlock watched John pull on a dry jacket before giving him a quick kiss on his way out the door. The inability to move freely during the day had never bothered Sherlock before, but now he had a mate to worry about. Well, John Watson could handle himself, he was certain. He settled back down with his laptop and mind palace, decidedly not checking the time every five minutes.

John finally returned a bit more than three hours later, looking tired and sniffling a bit. Sherlock was on his feet in a moment, moving to take his jacket.

"Just a little cold," said John, passing him a note. "I did stand out in the rain for two hours last night." He didn't look at Sherlock as he headed for the kettle.

Guilt wormed in Sherlock's stomach. He walked up behind John and kissed his hair, resting a hand on his hip. "I asked you to come inside with me."

"You're mad if you think I'd willingly walk into a room full of vampires."

Even from where he was standing, Sherlock could see the set of his jaw, the defiance in his shoulders. His fingers stroked John's neck, feeling both the bonding mark and the still healing blood bite. John jerked away as he touched the latter. Stepping back, Sherlock bit his lip. Sometimes he still didn't understand his mate.

With a sigh, John finished fixing his tea and turned turned to face him. There was worry in his eyes too. Sherlock leaned in and kissed him gently. John huffed and kissed him back.

"You should sleep if you're ill," said Sherlock quietly.

"Idiot," said John affectionately. He sipped the tea and headed for the bedroom.

Sherlock went back to the front room and scanned the note before getting back to work. A short time later, he heard a whimper from the bedroom.

Dropping everything without a thought, Sherlock hurried down the hall. Remembering what had happened last time, he stopped in the doorway and took a moment to observe. John was tangled in the sheets, feet and legs moving like he was running, eyes screwed tightly shut as if he was in pain. Quietly, Sherlock went to the other side of the bed and got in. He moved slowly closer, hoping his presence and scent would help bring John out of the nightmare.

It took a few minutes, but finally, John's features relaxed and Sherlock watched him settle into better dreams. He'd never planned on or expected a mate, let alone the werewolf lying next to him, but here he was and Sherlock knew already that he'd be lost without him. When he was certain John wouldn't react violently, he closed the distance between them and wrapped him in his arms, holding him close, just breathing in his scent.

~

The next few weeks brought a spate of similar murders. The press was starting to notice, even as their sharp-toothed quarry eluded them. Someone started a rumor that it was a zoo animal. Ridiculous, but it gave them some breathing room.

Things were developing between himself and John as well. The werewolf was fearless as they chased down leads and criminals, trying to get to the dark root of crime that was James Moriarty.

John slept best curled in Sherlock's arms. And Sherlock found he thought better in those quiet hours with his omega tucked safely against him, breathing softly, blood pumping sluggishly through his veins in a comfortable rhythm. Sherlock decidedly did not ask to feed from him again, and John said nothing about the blood in the refrigerator. Their nights were busy with the elusive case. During the day Sherlock researched and sometimes they mated in the late afternoons, or when John decided that he needed a distraction. Sherlock never minded much at all when John crawled into his lap or took the computer away and gave him a solid kiss instead.

This particular evening, Lestrade was standing in their front room, watching him pace. "I can't keep the press off this forever," he warned.

"We're making progress," said Sherlock. "I just need more time."

Lestrade looked troubled. John brought the inspector a cup of tea and urged Sherlock to stop pacing and sit. "We're going out again tonight," said John.

The inspector was clearly thinking. Making up his mind, he pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled an address. "Talk to Violet."

Sherlock sat up quickly and took the paper, raising an eyebrow. "You know about this place?"

"I know about a lot of things, Sherlock. I'm not as dim as you think I am."  He drained his tea quickly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." He turned and headed down the stairs.

John looked between them. "What was that about?"

"This," said Sherlock, "is a werewolf haven."

"Well, why didn't we go there three weeks ago?" John's temper was clearly rising.

Sherlock gave a smile. "You didn't want to go into a vampire club, how do you think I feel about entering a werewolf den? Also, I knew the place existed, but not the location. Clearly the inspector has been doing his research."

Sherlock could tell that John was full of questions as they prepared to go out. "I do not know much about this group," Sherlock grudgingly admitted. "Only that it is a loose pack of werewolves that ended up in the city for one reason or another."

"We're social," said John, "makes sense we'd make a pack if there wasn't one or we were rejected by our own. I know from time to time pups would leave our village and not return. It's possible some of them ended up here or other places like this."

Sherlock looked at the hopefulness in his eyes and felt his stomach twist. He reminded himself that John had chosen him, that they were mated.

John must have caught the look because he leaned up on his toes and kissed him. "I'm not going anywhere, you daft git."

They headed out into the night and, after a long cab ride, ended up walking through some twisted streets that looked like they hadn't been regularly maintained in the past century. Sherlock had the distinct feeling he was being watched and resisted the urge to tighten the scarf around his neck.

There was a growl as a young werewolf woman stepped from the shadows. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see Violet," said Sherlock, knowing she could change and probably rip him to shreds if she chose. John stepped a little closer to him, in a protective stance.

The woman looked from one to the other. John gave her a nod and she turned away from them. "Follow."

They headed down an alley. Sherlock was all too aware this could be a trap, but he trusted Lestrade and more so, he trusted John. And his mate was perfectly relaxed. The omega's hand brushed his own, reassuring. _Okay_ , thought Sherlock, _perhaps it had been foolish of me to expect John to go into that club._

They stopped in a courtyard with a number of werewolves in both forms lounging about. They all watched the vampire with open hostility that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Approaching them was a dark haired woman with an acid-like scar on her cheek. A few tendrils of it reached to her temple, barely missing her golden eye. _Silver_ , his mind provided. "I'm Violet," she announced. "And you're Sherlock Holmes."

John elbowed him. It took Sherlock a moment to realize what he meant for him to do, then he pulled his scarf loose and bowed his head, baring his neck to the other alpha, careful not to let the worry show, though his stomach churned for a moment.

She chuckled. "You've got manners. For a vampire." Violet led them to a table and gestured them to a seat. "I take it you are here about the killings. I can assure you, it is none of mine."

Sherlock sat and folded his hands on the table. John sat next to him and quietly rested a reassuring hand on his knee underneath. The vampire relaxed under his touch.

"I did not think it was,” said Sherlock. “I believe this is perhaps a former member of John's pack, and a new associate of James Moriarty."

"Moriarty is known to us. I cannot tell you his current location, but I can tell you he is watching you, Sherlock Holmes."

"Unsurprising," said Sherlock. Violet was younger than she first appeared, but with the way she carried herself and the others obeyed her, despite their wary glances his way, she was clearly a good leader and respected. She was also unmated. Ah, she had lost her mate, somewhere along the way. Violet leaned a little closer. "You can help us. You do us a favor, I'll get you a location for this lone wolf."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Can you indeed?"

"He's protected. We cannot stop him ourselves, but you have other resources. I'd like a meeting with Mycroft."

Sherlock reached in his pocket for his mobile and there was an immediate growl from behind Violet. She turned and glared at the wolf and he backed down. Pulling out the device and showing it to her, he sent off a quick text. When he received a reply a minute later, he passed it to her to read.

Violet nodded. "I will send you the information about your target after the meeting." She stood, clearly dismissing him.

Sherlock nodded and bowed. "Thank you."

They quickly exited the courtyard and Sherlock found himself breathing a little easier. But he stayed close to John the entire way pack to the flat, and as soon as they were back in their familiar rooms, Sherlock was kissing him and pushing him back on the couch, scenting him frantically.

"Hey, it's okay," said John, soothing his hands down his sides.

"Need you," muttered Sherlock.

John chuckled. "You _are_ mad, you know. Going into a den like that."

Sherlock nuzzled against John's neck, breathing in his comforting scent. John ran his fingers through his hair, murmuring comfort. It was silly, to be this worked up. After all, Lestrade would never send him in anywhere that would hurt him. But still, he was glad for his omega's presence, the only werewolf, the only _person_ , he wanted to be familiar with.

John raised his chin and kissed him. Just as Sherlock kissed him back, his mate's stomach growled. John laughed. "Why don't I go pick up some takeaway and then we can review what we have?"

Sherlock nosed him again, reluctant to let his mate go. "Very well," he said at last, knowing his werewolf needed to eat.

John kissed him again as he got up. Sherlock watched him pull on his jacket. "I'll be back in ten, love."

Sherlock nodded and grabbed the laptop, settling on the couch. Suddenly he sat up straight, feeling like he'd been jabbed. He fumbled for his mobile, looking at the clock and realizing twenty minutes had gone by. Suddenly, it vibrated in his hands.

_Come get John Watson._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the usual crew, especially themadkatter13 and beltainefaire.
> 
> I think maybe one more left.


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock easily slipped into the pool building, walking through empty corridors and following the scent of his mate, nearly covered by the strong smell of chlorine. But John was afraid and that compelled him to move even faster, at last stepping out next to the pool and seeing a great gray wolf standing over John, one huge paw pinning his bad shoulder to the ground.

At Sherlock’s presence, the alpha wolf raised his head, growling at him.

In return the vampire bared his teeth, taking a step closer. The wolf's claws dug into John, making him give a small cry of pain and freezing Sherlock.

They stared at each other across the cool tile for a long minute. There was movement from behind the wolf. “Oh, you alphas are so predictable. Across species even.”

Sherlock took in the slender man, sauntering casually towards the wolf with his hands in the pocket of his suit.

“James Moriarty,” said Sherlock.

“Sherlock Holmes. And I see you’ve met my associate Sebastian Moran.” His voice was high and cocky.

“Not so much introduced,” said Sherlock, watching Moriarty closely.

“Well, then,” sneered the criminal. “Deduce. Since you’re the great Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock took a breath, meeting John’s eyes. The omega gave him the smallest nod. “This Moran is from John’s pack. Probably been pursuing the omega for some time, but was rebuffed. He did not fight for John when he was exiled, perhaps thinking to catch him on his next heat. But I got there first. Came to London, where he was found by you.”

“Excellent,” Moriarty’s smile carried no real mirth. "And your brother leads the Council."

"You want war between the vampires and werewolves."

"Perhaps. You have to admit there is opportunity in conflict."

Sherlock had been moving closer to the trio. He glanced at John again with a nod. Suddenly John threw all his compact force into his legs and hit Moran right where it would hurt the most. The wolf yelped and jerked back, giving John a chance to roll free and get his feet next to Sherlock.

Moran growled and started towards them. Sherlock drew a gun from his back. “Can you smell the silver?”

The wolf stopped. “No honor among vampires,” he growled.

“You would take my mate. That’s not honor. And John’s more than capable of taking care of you himself.”

Sneering, Moran looked at the omega. “He can’t even change. How could he challenge me?”

“You’ve always underestimated me, Seb.” Without hesitation, John plucked the gun from Sherlock’s hand and pulled the trigger.

Sherlock’s ears rang with the concussion in the tiled room. The wolf had changed into a human, taller than John, shorter than Sherlock, dark haired, every line of him screaming soldier. He charged at them, but Sherlock moved first, baring his own teeth and tackling him.

The werewolf was bigger and stronger, but Sherlock had never been afraid to fight dirty. He tried to keep his neck away from the man’s teeth, moving them inch by inch, keeping it covered with struggle until with an enormous splash they both landed in the pool.

Sherlock kicked for the surface, but Moran seemed determine to bring him down with him. He felt more than heard the concussion of a bullet hitting the water, but more importantly, Moran’s grip loosened. Sherlock kicked him and reached the surface. A strong arm was hauling him out of the water and setting him on the ledge. To his surprise it was Lestrade. He followed the inspector’s gaze and saw Moran floating facedown in the water.

“No sign of Moriarty,” said Donovan, coming to his side.

John helped Sherlock to his feet. “You all right?”

Sherlock opened his mouth and noticed Lestrade had his mobile out, no doubt to record the soaking detective. Closing it again, he steered John away from the police and into the nearest locker room. He leaned down and scented his omega, licking the mating mark.

“Hey, it’s okay,” said John. “Good of you to bring the Yard.”

“I didn’t,” said Sherlock, blinking down at John.

The werewolf raised an eyebrow. “Well, they’re here now. We should probably give our statements and go home.”

Sherlock could still smell the other alpha on his mate. He really wanted to shove him up against the lockers and take him. But the Yard would definitely hear that. Instead he stepped back out. “I’m taking John home,” he announced.

Lestrade gave the two a knowing smile. “I want you at the station in the morning to give statements.”

“Of course, Inspector.” Sherlock put his hand on John’s back and steered him out, not minding a bit that he was leaving puddles on the way. A familiar dark car pulled up as they stepped outside.

“I should have known it was you,” he growled as the door opened.

“Yes, you are welcome, Sherlock. Come, I will give you two a ride home.”

Part of Sherlock wanted to refuse, but, clearly this would be faster than hailing a cab. He put himself between John and the older vampire. “This is my brother, Mycroft.”

“I see,” John was appraising him. Mycroft looked singularly unbothered. It was still a tense car ride as they drove back to Baker Street. Sherlock took a small amount of pleasure in knowing that he was soaking his brother’s seat.

Finally, they arrived. John got out but Mycroft touched Sherlock’s arm, meeting his eyes as he turned to look at him. Sherlock bowed his head to the elder vampire. “Thank you,” he mumbled quietly.

“John is good for you,” said Mycroft.

Sherlock’s head went up at that. Mycroft gave a small smile. “Go on, I know you wish to be with your mate. I will call on you soon.”

Sherlock got out and found John standing in the doorway. He gave Sherlock a grin. “At least I’m not the one who ended up soaked this time.

With a playful growl, Sherlock crowded him up against the door and kissed him deeply.

John laughed. “Keep that up and I will be; come on, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

They headed upstairs and John quickly stripped his alpha. Sherlock returned the favor, admiring the lines of his lover’s body. He leaned in and licked the mating mark, feeling the almost faded bite mark next to it.

“Would you like to drink from me?” asked John.

Sherlock jerked back, surprised by the offer. He studied his eyes, and found them dilated by adrenaline and lust.

“I trust you,” said John, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom. “I’m not in heat this time. I’ll even write myself a note if you’re worried about me forgetting again.”

“That will not be necessary.” Sherlock lay him in the bed, grabbed the lube and started fingering him open. John moaned, running his hands along Sherlock’s shoulders. “You should be able to remember this time. And I would be honored to taste you.”

John gave him his easy smile, love and trust in his eyes as he lay underneath Sherlock. Withdrawing his fingers, Sherlock lined himself up and sank inside, making them both groan. John wrapped his legs around his waist. They moved together quietly for a few minutes until John angled his head, offering.

With only the slightest hesitation, Sherlock leaned in to bite. John moaned in the most delightful way as he was penetrated and the adrenaline only made his blood that much sweeter. Sherlock slowed his thrusts, feeling both of their cocks swelling. He carefully let go a moment sooner than he would have liked, looking at John’s face.

“That felt good,” John muttered, eyes blown even wider now, so hardly any blue showed at all. Sherlock kissed him and resumed his thrusts, needing to wipe away any trace of the other alpha. John was his and his alone.

John seemed to have the same need. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s back, pulling him as close as he could. Sherlock mouthed his mating mark, John’s cock sliding deliciously between them. He felt John tense a moment before he came with a growl. Sherlock bit down as he followed him. He knew in his heart he would follow wherever John led.

By the time he was aware of himself, he could hear his lover panting underneath him. Sherlock raised his head and ran his fingers through his damp hair. “John?”

Opening his eyes, John gave him beatific smile. “I love you.”

Sherlock stared at him a long moment, then leaned in and kissed him, feeling like his heart might burst. John hummed happily and tangled his short fingers in the curls. Carefully Sherlock pulled out and lay on his side, pulling him close.

Moriarty was still out there, but for now, everything was as it should be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very grateful for all of you who have been reading. 
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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